


Coffee, Corrective lenses, and Cable-knits

by Kiraly



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Dates, Fluff, Glasses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 11:25:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12409419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly
Summary: In which Reynir and Onni have a coffee date, Emil and Tuuri are meddling friends, and everyone looks hotter in glasses and/or tight sweaters.





	Coffee, Corrective lenses, and Cable-knits

**Author's Note:**

> So this past week's [Synchronised Screaming](https://synchronisedscreaming.tumblr.com/) prompt list was all about clothes. I did a drawing of Reynir based on the prompt "everyone looks hotter in glasses" a few days ago, and then this morning I got a plot bunny about a story to go with it. So please enjoy this silly modern AU fluff with the two of them! Onni got his own drawing too, so I'll put those at the end.

Reynir was out of bed and halfway across his bedroom before his brain caught up with his body. _The date! It’s today!_ The resulting mix of giddy excitement and panic threw off his coordination, so by the time he made it to the bathroom he’d almost run into two walls and banged his hip on a doorknob. The shower helped to calm him down, but afterwards he found himself staring down at the counter in confusion. _Is this some new level of freak-out? Selective blindness?_ Because no matter how many times he looked, the answer was the same: he couldn’t find his contact case.

After checking every drawer and shelf and even squinting behind the toilet, he had to admit that they really weren’t there. So he got dressed and shuffled into the living room to continue his search in a different way.

“Emil? Have you seen my contacts?”

Reynir’s roommate barely glanced up from his laptop. “Your what?”

“You know...my contact lenses? The ones I usually wear instead of these?” He waved a hand at the round-framed glasses perched on his nose. He’d liked them when he bought them, but one too many “Harry Potter” comments meant he only wore them around the apartment.

Emil kept his eyes on the screen. “Oh. Nope, haven’t seen them.” His ears were suspiciously pink.

On the other end of the couch, Tuuri took a sip from her coffee and adopted an innocent expression. “Why, what’s wrong with those?”

Reynir ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t exactly tell her the truth—that he had a date with her _brother,_ of all people. Too embarrassing. “I just...really need them. Today. Right now. They look...better.”

“Oh?” Another sip of coffee. “Do you have something _important_ today? A big presentation? Meeting with a professor you want to impress?” She leaned forward. “Or is it something else? Something _special?_ ”

“Look, it’s...I…” Suddenly Tuuri’s chipper questions and Emil’s refusal to look at him came together and added up to one answer. “Oh my gods, _you two_ took them! Where are they? Why would you do this to me today of all days?”

“So today _is_ special,” Tuuri said, breezily ignoring his accusation. “Care to tell us why?”

“You know why!” They must know, somehow. Why else would they be doing this? “I have a _date with Onni_ and I want everything to be _perfect_ but now I’m going to look awkward and terrible and you’re laughing at me—”

Tuuri was laughing. Emil looked indignant. “Reynir! I trusted you!” He dug out his wallet and passed Tuuri a bill. “All you had to do was last _five more minutes_ before blabbing about your date with Onni.”

“How did you two even find out about that?” When he’d finally worked up the nerve to ask Onni out, they’d been leaving the library at two in the morning. No one else had been around, he was sure of it.

“Well it was obvious you had a date with _someone,_ you’ve been spending all your free time looking at braiding tutorials on Pinterest and asking me which of your outfits ‘belongs in a coffee shop’ for the past three days,” Emil said. Now that he’d lost the bet, he seemed just as gleeful as Tuuri. “And honestly. You’ve been mooning over him for _months.”_

“And Onni has been even more of an anxious mess than usual,” Tuuri added. “Not that he’d actually ask me for fashion advice, but I hid all his ugly shirts in the back of my closet so I think it’ll work out. You two will be such a cute couple!”

“But...if you want the date to go well, then why would you steal my contacts? I’m going to look stupid.”

Tuuri and Emil exchanged a _look._ “Um, no you won’t,” Tuuri said. “Trust me.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Emil fluffed his hair the way he did when he was about to impart some great wisdom. “Everyone looks hotter in glasses.”

“WHAT?”

But apparently the two of them were tired of teasing him, because they left their seats on the couch and dragged him into his bedroom to get ready. After rejecting his first four outfits— _No, you cannot wear a flannel shirt, this is a coffee date not a barn dance—_ Emil went digging through the closet himself. Tuuri listened patiently while Reynir debated the merits of French braids, Dutch braids, and fishtails before finally shutting him down. “Do what you normally do, but neater,” she said. “And don’t you dare try to stuff all of this into a French braid.” She fluffed his bangs and the other little bits of hair that stuck out around his head. “They frame your face. It’s part of your charm.”

Reynir hoped that Onni would think he was charming. He _felt_ like an idiot. But he had to admit, when they stood him up in front of Emil’s full-length mirror, he didn’t look half-bad. The charcoal grey sweater made his hair look brighter, and the dark jeans he didn’t remember owning were doing his legs all kinds of favors. Even the glasses were less terrible than he’d expected.

“You’re sure they don’t make me look silly?” He couldn’t help asking one last time.

Emil patted his shoulder. “No, if anything they make you look smarter. It’ll be fine.”

Tuuri patted him significantly lower, making him jump and blush. “Onni is going to _die_ when he sees you,” she said. “Now go on, don’t keep him waiting! I expect to hear all the details later. Except for the kissing parts, because, well, eww.”

“Kissing?!”

They shut the door behind him before he could think of a response.

* * *

 

Onni got to the coffee shop half an hour early and tried in vain to keep his nerves from showing. It was no good; even on a normal day, he’d have been jittery from lack of sleep and too much caffeine to compensate. His dreams were full of red hair and laughing green eyes, and once he woke up the day only got worse. Half of his wardrobe had gone missing overnight. He _knew_ the comfortable brown sweater without _too_ many holes had been there yesterday, but today it was nowhere to be found. In the end, he had to settle for the grey-blue cable-knit sweater Tuuri had bought him last winter. _She_ said it brought out the color of his eyes. _He_ claimed it was too tight, and the light color would show dirt too easily. But it was too cold to go without a sweater, and even he knew better than to wear the one with a giant coffee stain on the front.

From the way the barista stared at him—and, okay, the way she said ‘nice sweater!’ and undercharged for his coffee—he guessed Tuuri might be right this time. Hopefully Reynir would agree.

The thought of Reynir set him to fidgeting again, and he clung to his empty coffee cup to have something to do with his hands. At first, when Reynir asked him out, he’d thought it was some kind of joke, or maybe a hallucination brought on by too much studying. He’d had to repeat himself twice before Onni managed to stammer out a yes and agree on a time and place. And the next morning, it still hadn’t seemed real—until he saw the note he’d left for himself. _Reynir asked me out. No, it wasn’t a dream._ His dreams were never that kind to him, anyway.

He’d spent the next few days alternating between happiness and despair. Despair because he was a hot mess, and everyone knew it, and _oh gods there were so many ways he could mess this up._ But also happiness because, well. Reynir. Date. He still couldn’t understand how it had happened. Reynir was bright and enthusiastic, always happy to talk about whatever was on his mind. He’d never seemed to care that Onni wasn’t the most outgoing person, and he weathered the storms of Onni’s moods remarkably well. His visits to Onni’s study carrel in the library were a welcome distraction—he actually _asked questions_ about Onni’s research, and seemed interested in the answers. And his own stories about things that happened in his classes helped Onni remember that there was a world outside of his books. The night Reynir asked him out, they’d lost all track of time, just sitting in their quiet corner and talking.

Now, the time seemed to crawl by. He kept checking his planner—Tuuri was always nagging him to use the calendar in his phone, but he found the tangible evidence of pen and paper comforting—so he knew he had the right time. Unless he’d written down the wrong time. No, no, he was sure. It was just that he was early. Reynir would be there soon. Everything would be fine.

Even after all his waiting, he still wasn’t prepared when Reynir arrived. The door let him in with a gust of wind and a few stray autumn leaves. He was beautiful, with curls escaping his braid and a pink tint to his cheeks from the cold. And then he saw Onni, and his whole face lit up.

“Onni! You’re here!”

Onni, being the world’s smoothest talker, said, “Glasses!”

Reynir’s face turned a deeper shade of red. “Oh! I, uh, yeah, there was a problem with my contacts so...they look really dorky but...I…”

“Oh! No, I…” That was _not_ how he’d wanted this date to start. “They’re amazing. Good, I mean, for seeing and they look good and they’re...I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he finished lamely.

The smile came back, still a little sheepish. “Ah. Well, I usually wear contacts. I think the glasses make me look silly.”

“I like them though,” Onni said. “Not that I don’t like you without them, I just...you look nice.” _Devastatingly hot_ was a more accurate description, but he couldn’t just say that out loud.

“Thanks!” Reynir was back to his usual bubbly self. “You do too. Is that a new sweater? It looks nice and soft, but if it was mine I bet I’d spill coffee all over it.”

Since Onni had spent all morning worrying that he’d do the same thing, his own laugh surprised him. “Speaking of coffee,” he said, “How about we get some?” And there was another surprise—suddenly, he wasn’t nervous at all. Reynir led the way to the counter, and now that they’d gotten over the initial awkwardness, the conversation flowed easily. He barely noticed that the barista charged him full price this time. He didn’t notice much of anything besides Reynir.

* * *

The date flew by. Coffee cups were emptied and replaced and eventually joined by sandwiches and cookies— _I know you have a sweet tooth,_ Reynir said, _don’t try to pretend._ The shaft of sunlight crept across their table and eventually faded away. It was only when the baristas started giving them pointed looks that they realized the coffee shop was closing.

“This was nice,” Reynir said, as they walked back towards campus. “I’m glad you agreed to come with me.” His hand brushed against Onni’s. _Should I?_

Onni smiled. “I’m glad you asked.” Their hands brushed again, and this time Reynir gathered his courage and linked his fingers with Onni’s. A blush tinted Onni’s cheeks, but he squeezed Reynir’s hand and didn’t let go. He cleared his throat and said, “I wouldn’t mind doing this again. You know. If you want.”

“I do! Want to, I mean.” Just the thought made Reynir smile again. He knew that as soon as he got home, Emil and Tuuri would drill him about how it had gone. They’d probably tease, but somehow that didn’t matter anymore. And he thought, glancing over at Onni, that Tuuri’s prediction of kissing might not be too far off.

_Glasses or no glasses, I guess everything worked out just fine._

* * *

 

__


End file.
